


Prompt 13: Achilles Heel

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [13]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: But only a little, Comfortween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html13. Achilles HeelHelping someone with a twisted ankle or other leg/foot injury.Jimmy hurts his ankle, Thomas gives him a massage and things get out of hand.Rated mature for smuttiness.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Prompt 13: Achilles Heel

Jimmy grimaced as Thomas wrapped a bandage around his ankle.

“Ouch,” he hissed, “be gentle with me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes; “Alright, let’s get this foot elevated.” He placed two pillows under Jimmy’s foot and helped him get comfortable. “Can I get you anything?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a cuppa,” Jimmy gave a cheeky smile.

“Alright,” Thomas sighed.

“And a biscuit.”

“Okay.”

“An’ I’m a bit hungry an’ all.”

Thomas gave him a withering look but went to fetch him up some tea.

It was Thomas’s fault really, so it was only fair the under-butler waited on him hand and foot.

And it was all part of the plan.

They’d been roped in to helping the maids clean some of the harder to reach areas - behind heavy furniture, up on the top of picture frames and so on - and Jimmy had been balancing on a wobbly old crate, reaching out to flick away a cobweb, when he’d lost his balance and crashed down in a pile, turning his ankle in the process.

Which sounded like Jimmy’s fault until you understood that Thomas was standing right _there_. He could’ve put out a hand to stop Jimmy or even caught the footman in his damn arms, but he’d just watched his ignominious fall and hadn’t even offered to help him up after until Jimmy had grabbed his hand first.

It hurt, and not just his ankle. But Jimmy knew _why_ \- Thomas never touched Jimmy unless invited, as if a friendly pat on the shoulder or a brush of fingers was somehow an invasion of Jimmy’s privacy. And it was driving him mad.

Back before ‘the incident’ Thomas had always touched Jimmy - a mite too much if Jimmy were honest, but only because that old witch O’Brien were always hanging around trying to catch them out.

God help him but he missed it. _Longed_ for it even.

Not because he was _lavender_ or anything like that but because they were mates now and it _didn’t bloody matter_ if Jimmy’s leg pressed against Thomas’s under the table or if Jimmy leaned into Thomas’s space as they smoked in the yard. Thomas was under some illusion that he made Jimmy uncomfortable when quite the opposite was true. Jimmy knew Thomas, and Thomas would never do anything Jimmy didn’t want.

Jimmy trusted Thomas and he was determined to make Thomas understand that.

And his ankle _did_ hurt, but perhaps not as much as he’d led Thomas to believe.

So Thomas, feeling guilty, had let himself be roped into helping Jimmy upstairs and into bed to rest. Jimmy had asked him to wrap his ankle, what with his medic training and all, and a plan had popped full formed into his mind

  
Thomas returned with a tray of tea things, including a cheese roll, a couple of biscuits and an apple. There was also had a tea towel full of something balanced in the edge of the tray.

“Ice, for your ankle,” Thomas said, and held the tea towel out about three inches away from Jimmy’s foot, waiting for permission.

Jimmy felt a sort of outrage boil up inside him - but at himself, not at Thomas. Jimmy had done this - he was responsible for making Thomas so standoffish.

“Thomas,” he said, “you can - it’s alright if you touch me sometimes.”

Thomas blinked.

“I mean I’m not going to scream if our hands brush,” Jimmy clarified. “You can put a ruddy tea towel on my ankle without needing express bloody permission.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Thomas started, but Jimmy cut him off.

“Just don’t go kissin’ me in me sleep again and we’ll be dandy,” Jimmy said, aiming for lightheartedness. By the look on Thomas’s face he’d missed the mark.

“I best be getting back to it,” Thomas said, unceremoniously dumping the tea towel on Jimmy’s foot.

Jimmy gave a shriek as icy water ran up his calf - Thomas interpreted Jimmy’s scream as pain and quickly removed the offending towel.

“Sorry,” Thomas said, “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” Jimmy lied, “so now you need to rub it better.”

“I - what?”

“Y’know, massage it a bit, make it feel better,” Jimmy said, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world. A perfect excuse for prolonged touching.

Just enough to get Thomas used to it, no funny business or anything.

Thomas gave him a judgemental look.

“Or you could just leave me in agony, which wouldn’t be very fair considering it’s your fault,” Jimmy continued, “an’ after you didn’t stop me falling when you could’ve.”

Thomas’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was warring internally over what to say. Eventually he sat down on the end on the bed and took Jimmy’s foot onto his lap. Wordlessly he started softly massaging around Jimmy’s ankle and his lower calf.

It felt, well, _incredible_.

“Ohh,” Jimmy moaned, “Thomas, that’s _heaven_ ,” and blushed at how undone he sounded.

Thomas swallowed thickly and kept his head bowed over Jimmy’s foot. His fingers slid a little higher, chasing away a knot in Jimmy’s calf that he hadn’t even known was there. His skin was tingling as if he’d rubbed a load of mentholated ointment on himself and his heart had picked up a pace in his chest.  
  
It was just a massage, nothing wrong with it. One mate helping out another.

Jimmy made an involuntary noise of pleasure and Thomas’s hands slid higher still, kneading the strong muscle of Jimmy’s thigh. Jimmy could feel the warmth of Thomas’s fingers though the thin material of his trousers. The under-butler himself had a band of pink colouring his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, and he was struggling to keep his breathing even.

He looked absolutely stunning and Jimmy felt desire start to build down low in his stomach.

As Thomas continued to massage his thigh Jimmy imagined those clever fingers working their way higher until they teased his manhood, and to his embarrassment he started to get _hard_. Thomas must’ve noticed, what with his hands only inches away from the tent in Jimmy’s trousers. And the footman realised, all of a sudden, why he wanted Thomas to touch him, why he missed it so much, and it was nothing to do with being mates.

Jimmy wanted Thomas. He wanted him very badly indeed.

And, if the state Thomas was in was any indication, he wanted the footman just as badly in return.

“Thomas,” Jimmy said, his voice rough, “touch me.”

Thomas nodded, his hair working free of his pomade and falling over his brow, and cupped Jimmy’s erection through his trousers. The footman let out a wanton moan, his hips coming up off the bed but the under-butler kept his hand in place, letting Jimmy thrust against his palm.

“Thomas,” Jimmy managed to say, “look at me.”

Thomas’s head snapped up, his pupils blown wide with desire. Jimmy leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek, along his jaw and then finally on his mouth. After a moment of uncertainty Thomas’s lips opened and then, suddenly, his tongue slipped into Jimmy’s mouth.

It was so good and too much all at once. Jimmy pulled back, his head knocking against the bed frame, and came inside his underwear with a low groan. After a long moment the shaking of his body subsided and he managed to slow his breathing to a reasonable level. He looked down to see Thomas eyeing him warily.

“I should go,” Thomas said, standing up, “I’ve been away too long.” He was achingly hard, the outline of his erection visible through his livery.

“Don’t,” Jimmy replied. He gestured to Thomas’s ‘problem’ and said; “And you best not go down in that state.”

Thomas was halfway to the door, torn and clearly worried that Jimmy was going to panic.

Truth be told he was only panicking a little, but more because he didn’t want Thomas to leave thinking Jimmy was upset than because of what they just done. It hadn’t felt wrong at all. And if the world said it was wrong, well, Jimmy didn’t want to be _right_.

Jimmy jumped up off the bed and caught the under-butler by the wrist. “Stay, for a minute. I want to talk about it.”

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you had a duff ankle?”

 _Damn_.

“It got better,” Jimmy said, and kissed Thomas again as a distraction.

“I know I’m good in the bedroom,” Thomas said against Jimmy’s mouth, “but I think claiming I mended your ankle is stretching it a bit. Was this all a ploy to get me to do _that_?”

Jimmy nodded.

“You know, you could’ve just asked,” Thomas grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> I find smut difficult to write but this just sort of happened!


End file.
